


Uh... Wha-?

by insanepanda



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanepanda/pseuds/insanepanda
Summary: It's not like Rhys cared about going to prom. Not at all.





	Uh... Wha-?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What? Wait... What?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7052410) by [msMynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msMynx/pseuds/msMynx). 



> This was heavily inspired by the amazing msMynx's frostiron "What? Wait... What?" fanfic, which I have permission to borrow her plot idea for this fic. Thank you very much!

“Rhys, what do you think? Blue or slightly greenish blue?” Vaughn lifted up two practically identical ties for inspection.

Rhys squinted, “Uh… the right one.”

“Thanks, bro!” Vaughn smiled, humming happily to himself as he left the room to coordinate his outfit to prom.

A prom that Rhys isn’t attending.

It’s not like it is anything spectacular. It is probably just going to be bunch of tipsy teenagers drunk off spiked punch and bad music and dancing. It’s better off if he didn’t go. Anyways, this isn't even his prom, he'll have his turn next year. Vaughn is only going because August invited him. Not like he is jealous or anything. 

Rhys gnawed the end of his pen subconsciously as he turned back to glare at his assignment. He didn’t have time for prom anyway – he had coursework for 2 advance level classes on top of his extra-curriculum projects. He was simply far too busy for prom, and same goes with his boyfriend.

Jack was older then Rhys, but their similar ambition to be someone greater and better than the average dimwit in this backwater town, bonded them together. In fact, Jack had even more on his plate as he was working to get an early graduation and an internship to the mega-corporation, Hyperion. And if he is not bothering with prom, there isn’t any point in Rhys asking him about it, now is there?

Because Rhys definitely does not care. Not at all.

He was busy staring down a particularly dry piece of reading, when Jack’s ringtone blared out, shattering his concentration. He snatched his phone up, happy for any distraction from the cruel torture his teacher had chosen to inflict upon him.

“Hel-”

“Hey, Cupcake!” Jack interrupted him with his usual maniacal energy. “Look, I’m trying to figure out what should I wear to blow the poor feeble minds at prom. I know, I know. I look dashing in anything, but I like to a give lil something-something to the masses occasionally, ya know. Call it charity. Now should I go with go with teal or yellow?”

Jack left a long enough pause for Rhys to let out a confused, “Wha-?”

“Ah, who am I kidding? Yellow, it is. Like c’mon teal? What kinda colourblind moron will wear teal?” Jack let out a considering hum, “but then again, Rhysiecakes, you seem exactly the type to wear some awful teal atrocity with like vertical stripes on one side of the shirt. Can you imagine? Vertical stripes!”

Rhys let out an offended scoff at his insult. He does _not_ have bad taste, in fact what he had described sounds pretty cool!

Jack’s howling laughter trailed off, before he continued, “that was a good one. Anyways, what _are_ you wearing, Rhysie? C’mon, I need to know the extent of whatever fashion disaster awaiting me before I fix it.”

Now, Rhys was used to Jack’s sudden strokes of genius and inspiration, causing him to continue conversations that never even happened, but even those usually had some sort of relation with something he was working on or plans they had made together. This was completely out of the blue.

He tilted his head in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Rhys could hear a deep exasperated sigh crackling through the speaker, “Oh why do I love this fool. Prom, Rhysie! I’m talking about prom, get with the programme, will you, Cupcake?”

“Prom?” Rhys echoed dumbly, trying to sieve through every conversation he had with Jack recently for any possible mention of the word “prom”. None came to mind.

“Yes, prom. You know the big event that happens next week, where a bunch of teenagers dress up and make a fool out of themselves?” Jack’s voice rang with impatience, “anyways, the important part is that I’m going to show you off as my stunning arm candy at prom and the dinner date I’m going to take you out on – I already have the reservations booked by the way. And that means you need to look even more knock-out gorgeous then usual. _So what are you wearing_?”

Rhys pinched his nose bridge, “Jack, wait. Let me make this clear… We are going to prom?”

“Yes, Cupcake!” Rhys could practically see Jack throwing his hand in the air as he started to pace agitatedly. “I have been planning this for the past month, wrangling a reservation from that snooty bitch at that restaurant – which by the way, you are going to like and appreciate every effort I made in booking, because heaven knows how much you like your bullshit French food. While pizza on the other hand… now that’s cuisine.”

Jack had the tendency to go on long tangents that switched topics so quickly it causes listeners whiplash trying to follow his train of thought. It was something very endearing to Rhys. But he could understand why people can get annoyed by this, as he is experiencing that same irritation at a conversation flying completely above his head. There was no way he had missed being asked out to prom, no matter how busy he was.

He counted to five backwards and snapped, “Jack, stop.”

The sharp interruption of his rant by his usually patiently amused and attentive boyfriend shocked Jack to silence.

Rhys quickly took advantage of the silence, knowing that Jack’s shock would not last for long, “Since _when_ are we going to prom?” He tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk for an answer.

The continued silence stretched out for so long that Rhys was afraid that the line had hung up. He checked his phone, and seeing that the call was still ongoing, he frowned and asked, “Hello? Jack, are you there?”

He pressed his ear closer to the speaker and he could hear a muffled string of expletives coming out of Jack’s mouth.

“Jack?”

“RHYSIE BABY,” the sudden shout piercing through the phone’s speaker caused Rhys to instinctively pull it far away from his ear, with his eardrum ringing.

He cautiously put the phone back to his ear again to hear Jack’s long apologetic monologue, “- so busy, I forgot I never even asked you out. I mean who even does that. Only idiots with attention spans of a goldfish would do that. And I am no fucking goldfish, I’m too intelligent and handsome to be a goldfish-”

“It’s fine, at least I know now. There’s still time for me to shop for a prom outfit, so there’s no need to worry.” Rhys placated his upset boyfriend.

“Nope! I’m going to ask you out properly. You better dress up nice and pretty for me, Rhysie. I’ll come over to pick you up in two hours – no, make that one hour. We’re going to have a nice romantic candle-lit dinner and I’ll ask you out, and then we can go shop for your prom outfit. Two bird with one stone! In fact, I get to spend my bat-shit granny’s money on you – may she burn eternally in hell – so that’s three birds! Even better!” Jack cheerily said, bouncing back up from his slump.

“You don’t have to do that-”

“One hour, Cupcake!” Jack interrupted before hanging up the call.

Rhys stared at his phone with fond exasperation. Only Jack. Only Jack could plan a month in advance and forget the most vital part of the plan – his date.

“Vaughn, I need help choosing an outfit for my date!”

“Is Jack finally asking you out for prom?” He shouted back, “It’s about time! He even threatened me to tell him about that restaurant you always wanted to go to.”

Rhys shook his head with an amused smile, walking towards his wardrobe before freezing. Wait… Did he actually book a table at-? He shook his head. Nah, it’s impossible. You’ll have to book at least two months in advance… It’s impossible…

… Right?


End file.
